Hands down

There is just no substitute for helping hands. Of course the fact that they work according to the brain that instructs them makes the difference in time well spent or not. These thoughts are totally related to the past hours where my daughter packed up her clothes and snacks in anticipation of her return to her home. It might help you to understand if I begin at the beginning - well only insofar as it is related to her surprise visit which occurred on Friday. She called the day before with her arrival time. I had preparations to make at McNary NWR Education Center and I was as thorough as I could be in that regard because of the monthly event I call Second Saturday the next day. (By my own hands)
Nancy arrived in the late afternoon and we shopped for food. Naturally that is a foremost consideration to assure carefree hours of whatever else we would decide to do. Saturday morning was taken up with the subjects of water safety, water characteristics, stories of animals living near our McNary wetlands and a hike along that water which has been designated by US Fish and Wildlife as a resting/feeding/nesting area for waterfowl. It was exciting, interesting, and, by the time the Center was put in order, a tiring morning. (By hands besides my own, of many visitors and volunteers.)
I was perfectly willing - especially after a filling buffet luncheon - to sit and ruminate, which is impossible since only mammals with a odd stomach can do so. (so my stomach may be odd.) But many times certain foods and fortunately certain people can not sit still with a full stomach. Especially when it is obvious that certain acts ought to be accomplished. One was cleaning of my eave spouts. Sound simple? Well not too complicated. We got up on the roof and swept the Douglas fir needles off the interlocking shingles. Several bushels of needles. They are fine mulch for acid loving plants like my rhododendron. The neat little aluminum channel that keeps water runoff from dumping on my head was packed with leaves from deciduous trees and fir needles. And I mean packed full. Packed so tight and long enough to nurure seeds of tumbleweed and maple trees. True they were tiny but reminders that my rooftop would revert to a wild place in a few years. At the least it never went to moss.
So the helping hands cleaned the roof and runoff channels. Pretty good for a day's work, I thought. Washing the channel required solving a different problem. I wanted the runoff to drop into my plants not on the gravel driveway. What that required was changing the angle of the channel. Not a big deal. Well, it wouldn't have been if the ladder fit easily where required and more specifically at the angle allowing right handed hammering of the replacement nails. We did it anyway. The channel is flushed and the water falls on appropriate plants.
OK so that brings us to Monday morning and a living room full of books. Really full. Stacks of books laying sideways stuffed creatively in the bookshelves. And piled in corners on the floor. And piled on table tops. Helping hands were not enough. I needed brain directions to choose which to keep and which to throw. Not an easy task when I collected them because I passionately found them intriguing sometine past. But it has been done. Also video tapes sorted and beta tapes taken for transfer to an alternate medium.
So there you are. That's the story. Helping hands are crucial in my case because I made earlier decisions I could not bring my hands to rescind. Actually it is all in my head. And the hands became active because I made the comment that perhaps I ought to demolish my house and build a new one!!!! Or sell and rent!!!! And regardless of the final decision I would have to choose what to keep or not.
Naomi Sherer